“Six years later?” There was no way to miss the growing anger—and yes, disillusionment—in his voice. “When it doesn’t matter anymore? After you married someone else?”

The buzzing sound almost drowned out Gage’s words, and Elena turned to see a four-wheeler bump over a ridge and onto the lawn from the tree line.

With a curse of frustration, Gage was on his feet instantly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself as the rider came into view. Desmond Pierce had sharp, aristocratic features like she envisioned on a Mediterranean prince. As he rolled to a stop near the edge of the deck, Elena could see his cool gray eyes as he met Gage’s stare.

“What’s wrong?” Gage asked, still dripping wet as he tied the towel around his waist and stepped up onto the deck.

Desmond’s eyes shifted to her briefly before they moved back to Gage.

“News from Weston. We need to meet this afternoon if you can be at the casino by midday. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.” Then the man turned to her once more, his posture relaxing somewhat now that his important news was, apparently, delivered. “Sorry to interrupt your morning. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Desmond Pierce.”

“Elena Rollins,” she said, frustrated and relieved all at once to have her conversation with Gage end abruptly. She knew his ranch partners would take precedence over her, especially in light of what she’d just confessed to him. “And I’ll go get dressed so the two of you can speak privately.”

She was about to stand up, awkwardly reaching for the robe since she wore nothing beneath Gage’s T-shirt, but Gage already had a towel outstretched for her.

“We’ll continue our conversation later,” Gage spoke to her in low tones, his voice warm against her neck as he draped the towel around her.

“I’m not sure there’s much more to say.” They’d both made mistakes that had led them to this point. There was no going back to change them now. “I’d be more interested to hear what Desmond has to share with you. I’ll bet anything it has to do with Alonzo Salazar.”

Gage didn’t bother to deny it. He retrieved her robe before setting it on her shoulders.

“Lucky for you,” he said as his hands lingered on her upper arms, bringing memories of their night together flaming from her mind through her body, “you have a whole new story to cover that will be far more lucrative than whatever you might dig up on my former mentor.” He gave her a meaningful squeeze, eyes flaming with heat, then opened the French doors leading back into the house for her. “I’ll finish up as soon as I can here.”